Treasure
Google It

No one could have predicted the search would be broken wide open by a five-foot-nothing, pink-haired woman of Japanese-American parents in Silicon Valley, but it was. The Steel Ladies chapter in San Francisco had put out the word to help, and Spider Monkey found it. She worked at Google Headquarters.

Three Tequila took the call as she was opening up the email. “EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP,” she yelled as she put the call on speaker. “Sorry. Go ahead, Spider Monkey.”

“OK, so I was able to trace back the spoofed phone number to the original cellphone,” she said. “It’s been inactive since yesterday and is registered to Donner Pass Property Management.”

“Oh hell yeah,” Chase said.

“It gets better,” she said. “The thing about the iPhone is that it doesn’t really turn off unless you power it down, and location tracking is still enabled. The phone is in Duluth right now at the Radisson Harborview.”

“Our suspects are there, this gives us the first direct tie,” Chase said with a smile on his face for the first time in a day. “Thank you so much! This gives us what we need to hold these guys responsible. Have a great day, Spider.”

She laughed on the other end of the line. “What, you don’t want to hear the rest?”

“There’s more?”

“Of course, silly. I work for Google, and we know EVERYTHING. That includes knowing that cellphone was used with Google Maps to give directions from the airport to a house in Orlando, then to a house in Jupiter, Florida.” She read off the addresses, and the first was Roadkill’s house. “The second is where they stayed for about five hours before going to the airport in Fort Lauderdale. That’s where they are hiding her.”

Rori was already pulling up the address on Google Maps; it was a large home between A1A and the beach on the way to Juno Beach. It all alone, no other houses within a quarter-mile. “I’ll send the group text,” she said.

“We can’t thank you enough, Spider Monkey. Whatever you need is yours,” Chase said.

“That’s dangerous, Chase. I’ll have to think about it,” she said. “Good luck, get her back.”

“Damn right.” He hung up, just as the phones lit up with Rori’s group text.

“TARGET LOCATED, 1987 COASTAL CIRCLE, JUPITER, FLORIDA. RETURN TO CLUBHOUSE OR HEAD TO JUPITER, DO NOT APPROACH. WILL SEND STAGING LOCATION ASAP THANK YOU ALL- CANVAS”

Chase was already on the phone to the pilots, telling them to warm up the plane. “Is there a private airport near Jupiter,” he asked one of them. Chase directed them to prepare to fly there, then be ready to turn around and fly to Two Harbors as soon as possible after they landed. He then sent a message to Charles and the others back at the condo, telling them to pack quickly and pick them up because we needed to get to the plane immediately. “We’ve got to go soon,” Chase said to everyone. “Roadkill, you’re with us. Mongo, are you going with?”

“If you have room,” he said as Chase nodded. They’d leave two people here to return the rental cars, and one of the warriors could fly back. “Baby, can you stay here?” He kissed Three Tequila before he joined the group heading to the main area. People were getting up and looking to Mongo for direction. “We’re converging on Jupiter. I don’t need more than thirty people, and I prefer those with military or law enforcement backgrounds. Checkin with Tequila, strap up and get moving. We’ll text you the rally point.”

“FUCK YEAH,” one of the men yelled as he headed for the door.

Chase, Rori, Roadkill, and Mongo piled into one vehicle while Charles, Coral, Keith, and two others got in the second van. On the way to the airport, Chase called Ashley in the Oxbow Lake Beta’s office and asked her to step into a private area, where they could talk freely. “We know where she is. One of the Steel Ladies got into their phone,” he said excitedly. He gave Ashley the address. “We also have proof they were involved; Rori is forwarding the screen captures now. The phone is the property of Donner Pass Property Management Company. They got directions to Donna’s house and a house in Jupiter. If she’s there, we’ve got him dead to rights. The Brotherhood is converging there now, and we’re heading to the airport.”

“Oh, HELL YEAH,” Ashley yelled on her end. “I’ll let everyone know up here; you guys get her back.”

“Don’t do anything yet,” Chase said. “We don’t know who the moles are, and the last thing we need is for someone to tip their guy off there is a raid coming. If we get her back, we’re only telling you and Sawyer. I don’t want them to take off on us; I want Sawyer to coat his teeth with their blood.”

“Mine too,” she said. “A lot of us want a piece.”

“I’ll call you back in a few hours and let you know. If anyone asks, we got a lead on a property in Orlando, and the Brotherhood is preparing to storm it.”

“Got it. Good luck, Chase.” He hung up the phone.

Mongo stared at him. “You’ve got rats on your end?”

“Maybe. Remember the text message that talked about how they would know if Sawyer told someone? The only ones who know everything we are doing here are Sawyer and his old lady.”

They were still twenty minutes out from the airport when Mongo got a call from Granite, President of the Fort Lauderdale chapter. “I’ve got twenty men surrounding the property. We see no cars and no activity,” he said. “What the fuck am I waiting for?”

“Go get her,” Mongo said. “If she’s there, get her into a car and head for the airport. We’ll be waiting for you.” He hung up as Roadkill looked at him.

“You’re getting her without me?”

“Granite can handle it, and I’m not leaving her in that fucking cell a minute longer than I have to,” he said. “This shouldn’t take them long. I just hope they capture someone there, and they wait until I get there.”

“You take care of that for me, Mongo. I’ve got to take Possum home.”

“Fucking count on it, brother.”

--

Granite left the twenty in place as he met with his team leaders a mile away from the house. “We think she’s being held in the garage or this back shed,” he said as he pointed to a map they’d printed off the web. “The house is up on piers, so there probably isn’t a poured concrete room there. Team one, front door. Two, back door. Three, garage. Four, changing house. Rest of you, stay around the outside, don’t let any of these fuckers escape. Capture them if you can so we can take them to the Woodshed.” The men grinned. “Get out your phones and set timers for ten minutes. We go at zero. Go straight for your objective.”

They synced up their timers, then drove their cars down the road and parked out of sight of the house. Team One staged themselves at the fenceline, out of sight in the trees. They’d already run a long chain back to a pickup that would pull an entire section of iron fence down when they got the ‘go’ signal. Teams Two and Four staged themselves by the dunes at the closest spots to the patio doors and the pool’s changing house. Team Three was staying in vehicles; they would crash the driveway gate and go straight to the garage.

Granite checked his text messages as the men reported ready to go, four minutes left. He made another call to Mongo while he waited. “We’re about to go in,” he told him. “Three minutes and fifteen seconds.”

“Thanks, brother,” he said. “I’ll wait for your call. We’re just landing now.”

The old pickup Granite was sitting in was first in line; it had a rusty brush guard that would take out the gate without a problem. He reached his left hand into his cut, taking his Glock 19 out and checking the ammunition.

One minute.

He called the lookouts posted at each end of A1A where the roads went into the area. Men watching there would send a group text if they saw police coming. Everything was quiet.

Ten seconds.

Five.

The driver put it in gear and accelerated hard towards the driveway, taking the turn at speed and not slowing down for the gate. The metal screeched as it slammed open, and ten seconds later, they stopped in front of the side door to the garage. Granite was out in a heartbeat, the driver right behind him. The big biker put his size thirteen motorcycle boot next to the handle and busted the door open. Gun up, he turned on the light as he scanned the garage. “CLEAR,” he yelled as he reached the front of the white Lamborghini.

“CLEAR.”

“CLEAR.”

“OK, check for trapdoors or hiding places while I check with the other teams.” He almost made it to the door.

“GRANITE!” One of his men was looking under a Porsche that was in the shop area of the garage. “There’s something here.” The others ran over and put the car in neutral, then released the brake so they could push it back. Granite grabbed the handle at the edge of the diamond deck plate and pulled; it hinged back to reveal a pit with a set of stairs, and a scared, naked woman at the bottom. “FOUND HER,” he yelled as he went down the stairs.

Donna was screaming, her eyes covered as the light hit her eyes for the first time in a day. “It’s all right,” he said as he went over to her. “It’s Granite. The Brotherhood is here for you.” He pulled off his cut and draped it over her.

“Oh, God….” She reached for him and hugged him as she cried in relief. “Roadkill?”

“He’s at the airport, and we’ll bring you to him. Shimmy, go back to the cars and grab some sweats. Cottonmouth, find the key, or some bolt cutters.” He pulled out his phone and called Mongo. “We got her, let her talk to Roadkill.”

He tried not to listen as she was crying and talking to her Old Man. The other team leaders checked in; nobody was there. The beach house itself was full of art and expensive toys, just like the garage. “Close all the doors and see what we can do to fix the gate,” he told the team leaders. “Let’s make it look like no one has been here.”

A pair of boltcutters took care of the shackle around Donna’s leg. Granite helped her stand and pull on sweats that were way too big for her. The men lifted her out of the oil changing pit, and his VP carried her out to the waiting SUV. He got in beside her. “Clean up and get the hell out of here,” he told his men.

“I’m on it, get her out of here,” his Master-At-Arms said.

The driver put the van in gear and Possum looked up at him with teary eyes as she handed him back his phone. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“The Club would never give up trying to find you,” Granite said as he held her shaking hand. “We got lucky to find you here in Jupiter.”

“I’m in Jupiter?”

“Yes, what do you remember?”

“I walked into the kitchen after Mongo left. Someone grabbed me from behind and choked me out. I woke up in that garage. Those two, they….”

He could hear the fear in her voice as she started to shut down. He didn’t have to guess what they had done before they left her chained and naked in a concrete pit to die. Granite pulled her head onto his shoulder, letting her cry it out onto his T-shirt and cut. His hands were clenching until they turned white. He wanted to beat two people to death, and they were gone. He felt cheated.

She finally stopped sobbing halfway through the trip. “Do you need to see a doctor? Did they use, I mean, do you need a morning-after pill or something?”

She shook her head. “I’ll get tested back home to make sure they didn’t give me anything.” They were coming up on a Raising Canes, and her head snapped up. “Can we stop? I’m fucking starving, Granite. Granola bars and water don’t do it for me.”

“Sure.” They went through the drive-through, where they got enough Caniac combos for everyone. “I love these things,” she said in between sips of her sweet tea. They finished eating just as they drove onto the airport road. “Roadkill is going to be mad at me,” she said. “I didn’t leave any for him.”

“I don’t think he will be thinking about anything but you,” Granite said. He checked his phone, telling them they were five minutes out and getting the response they were gassed and ready. They drove onto the tarmac to where the private jet was waiting. “Damn, nice ride.”

“Nice friends,” she said. They stopped, and Roadkill damn near tore the door off to get to his woman. She wrapped around him like a koala as they kissed. “I love you, baby,” she said in between kisses.

“I love you too.” She hugged him tight, and Roadkill awkwardly shook hands with Granite as he held her up. “Thank you for everything,” he said before he walked her to the stairs of the plane, where the pilots were starting the engines.

“Granite, we owe you and the Club a lot,” Chase said as Rori hugged the big biker. “There’s an epic party coming up this summer, and we’d like you to come.”

“I’d like that,” he said.

“Thanks for everything,” Rori said with a hug.

“Heading back to Orlando?”

Rori shook his head. “Nope. Back to the North Shore. The fuckers who did this to her,” he looked towards the plane, “They’re back home, and they have no fucking idea what we have in store for them. They were in on the conspiracy that killed my parents and many others so they won’t die quickly. Mom will see them suffer.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” Granite said. “Get going, we’ll talk to you later.”

The jet took off over the water and turned northwest, chasing the sunset the first hour of the trip. Donna spent the whole trip sleeping in her husband’s arms, their executive chairs reclined, and the armrest out of the way. The rest sat quietly, talking over the Pack bond, about how they would play this out.

Their revenge needed to be complete, public, and painful. By the time the plane landed, they had a plan.

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